


The Weak can have their Purpose

by SophieGraceJ



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M, Mental Health Issues, Referenced Suicide Attempt, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 14:38:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14620797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophieGraceJ/pseuds/SophieGraceJ
Summary: You weren't a strong person, sometimes you were even weak.But the weak had their purpose. And you didn't mind serving this one for Jacob.





	The Weak can have their Purpose

“Have you ever heard of the term… Agoge?” 

“… No … No, I haven’t.”

“Thought so. Agoge was a training program created for male Spartans-” he paused, stuttered in his gaze for a moment, and you weren’t sure why … Until a small tug on his lips helped you guess.

It was hard to tell what your face was doing sometimes. Something your brother would remind you of a lot. 

Your brother … God you could have used him right now for some support. A shoulder to lean on, to cry on. He was always there – but now … 

However your face responded to that thought, it seemed to wipe Jacob’s smile clean off. 

It was stupid to think of him, your brother, especially now of all times.

Anyway, what did Sparta have to do with anything?

And as if he could read your mind, he answered the question almost perfectly, “You see. The Spartans, they knew the importance of culling the herd. Sacrificing the weak, allowing the strong to prosper.”

You regretted whatever expression you held when the last sentence fell from his mouth. 

Because he was smiling again. It was rare to see him smile. Or so you had thought. 

You cowered into the chair, not disturbed or feeling vulnerable, but because you had no other option as he leaned forward from his own chair adjacent to you, your knees touching his ever so lightly. 

Pale blue eyes holding a calmness like his voice.

You weren’t scared of him.

But you were scared of what he preached.

The strong and weak. That’s why you were in the old St. Francis Veterans hospital. Not willingly, but you were here and had been for the last few days. 

You suddenly knew all too well why he was bringing up the Spartans so casually, as if any of this was casual to begin with. 

Being strapped to a chair in an isolated room. A projector and screen ahead that had looped ‘‘colorful’’ pictures of the food chain in practice. Predators and prey.

Which one were you? 

You knew exactly which one you were. 

“They did what they had to. They culled the herd. In order to protect their city-state … they needed the strongest, the “perfect’’ warrior. And the cowards, the diseased, the ill. They were tossed aside. Sacrificed for the greater good.” 

You were diseased, weak, a coward, ill, mentally ill and at times physically ill because of it. 

You were the ‘perfect’ representation of what had to be sacrificed, yet here you were. Still alive and for some reason untouched. Not a mark, not a scratch, not a bruise. 

No one had harmed you, even amongst the chaos and misery you witnessed when you first arrived.

The echoes of screams throughout the halls that sat outside your dark room.

None of them were yours. And you didn’t know who or what to thank – or whether you should be thanking anyone or anything at all. Because in the end, you were still indoctrinated in the place, abuse or no abuse. 

“So, you see. Much like the Spartans, we must protect and defend our people. We must have the strongest, we must have warriors. Sacrifices are what we have to make. You know that…right?” His voice dropped from soft-spoken, to barely a whisper.

How could someone so tall, so scarred and threatening in appearance wear such a calm and soothing aura, a voice that somehow dispersed any anxiety, any negative little pinch in your soul. 

He made you feel safe… You knew you were safe with him. He’d never hurt you. 

Or at least he made it feel that way until you finally noticed the glittering object in his hand. 

Your brother’s dog tag…

You pushed onward, dashing closer to Jacob who continued to smile that little, teasing grin. 

You weren’t a threat to him, nor was your movement meant to be a threat, you were just automatically drawn to the dog tag… A physical memory you had of him, your brother who had your back maybe not in war, but in life. 

Your life, until he left for the military. 

“Now this. This is the “perfect” example of the injustice in today’s society,” He interrupted, fingers smoothing over the metal and tracing the letters of a name, a familiar name, and a quote… the quote. 

You never knew where your brother got it from, maybe he had made up, but he would always say it when things got real bad. 

“The strong pass on, with only a tiny piece of scrap to remind us of them. Sometimes a tomb, sometimes a photo. The strong die for the weak … protecting those who cannot protect themselves. And what’s left? What’s left after that sacrifice?” 

You raise your eyes to his, gulping apprehensively. Certain he was referring to you and your brother. How could he not be?

“Weakness… And how will the weak protect themselves? Huh?” 

You shook your head, keeping up with his gaze, you weren’t scared of his eyes, but you were scared of what they saw.

“We evolve through natural selection. At least that’s how it should be, how it used to be. Survival of the fittest. You understand that right?” He asked, just as quiet and pacifying as usual. 

You nodded, lips quivering slightly. His smile grew, not menacing but just … there. 

“Do you know where you stand?” 

You nod again, but he interrupts with his index finger in the air, indicating you to listen.

“You can talk, I know you can. Do you know where you stand?” 

“…Yes.” 

“Good. Now tell me. Since you know very well the necessities of survival. What should happen to you?” 

You knew the answer, you knew it before he asked. And part of you nagged for it to just come out your mouth, to tell him what you already knew to be true. 

You were weak. 

Your brother was strong. 

And for some fucked up reason, he was gone and you were still here … barely existing. 

He sacrificed himself in a war that wasn’t his, while you remained home, isolated and ill, useless and not contributing anything to the world because of your- your …weakness. Your mind. 

His eyes waited patiently for you to answer, he even went as far as reclining back into his chair, giving you some space. Your brothers dog tag returning to the pocket of Jacob’s camo jacket. 

His gentle smile remained, and his eyes just watched and lingered on you.

“The most devastating battles are fought in the mind.” You finally whispered, and to no surprise he frowned, taken aback by your response. But then it seemed to click behind his eyes, the quote, “That’s what my brother taught me before he left. And that’s  
what I learned after he left…” You smiled, not really though, it was the edge of your lips managing to tug upwards the slightest distance.

And then they were back down again.

“I just wish it’d been me and not him… I- he never should have gone away like that, but-but he did. You’re right, it’s unfair. He was strong, I was weak. I am weak, and I’ve done nothing and never will, but at least I can be the reminder of him when nothing else is.” You said with more friction, more power in your voice than you thought possible.

Jacob kept silent, not really giving insight to whether he agreed or disagreed with what you were saying. Nonetheless he was listening intently and allowed you to continue. 

“He was my everything … he was always there for me. One night, I was so close to offing myself – tried to hang myself from the metal thing, you know, that metal part of a shower? Well I tried to do it, wasn’t going to work but I tried anyway, thought it would work at the time, but the only reason I stopped myself… was him. My brother who would tell me I wasn’t weak, that I was strong, that I was worth it, that living my life was worth it.” You laughed a hollow sound, drifting your gaze from Jacob to the floor. 

“That would be weak, that would have a been a sacrifice not worth it. Because what I didn’t know, was that my brother needed me as much as I needed him. He needed me to plan his wedding,” Your next laugh wasn’t as hollow and you somehow witnessed a genuine spark in the pale blue eyes of the man sitting so focused before you, 

“He needed me to be an aunty to his child, to my niece, to be the babysitter when him and his wife would go out on a Saturday night. And although I’ve been through so many battles in my own mind, so much pain, I’d say, to hold my brother’s child in my arms, to know I was giving him and my sister-in-law a freedom for even just a night, to then sitting by my sister-in-law’s side every day, every night, sometimes talking, sometimes silent because it was the only comfort for someone whose partner and father of their child had just died … I’d say having a weakness, being weak as you call it, is worth it just for that.”

You knew tears were trudging down your face, marching and parading themselves to him, Jacob, but you didn’t care. 

However, you couldn’t help but freeze in the chair when he stood abruptly, glancing to the closed door, eyes grazing over the lock, to then burning into you, “You’re right. Even the weak have their purpose.” 

You watched on silently as he pulled out what you could only call a butcher knife, you continued to watch just as silently as he cut away the binds over your wrist, and you still remained with that silence as he told you to stand. 

But, your silence was bound to be broken soon enough like your binds were, you just didn’t expect it to be because of his mouth on yours. 

It was gentle and light at first, his lips touching yours, rough hands caressing the slope of your neck and behind your head, bringing you closer. 

You hummed into his mouth when he managed to get his tongue in yours, a dance occurring, between your hands on his chest and his hands on the small of your back, it was a dance of sudden intimacy you weren’t expecting. 

His palm found away under your shirt, traversing up your stomach to under you breast, feeling the pounding of your heart beneath ribs. His skin was warm but strange, he had so many rashes and scars, and you weren’t sure if they were from his time in the military or his time here, but it reminded you of strength.

It reminded you that you were safe with him because he was strong. And in an odd way, it made you feel stronger too, maybe by the fact that he was enjoying your fingers running through his smooth hair. 

“The desk …” He sighed breathlessly into your hair, guiding you both to where ever the furniture was. 

You didn’t have to see it though to know it was there, the palms of your hands grasping onto the edge of it, carrying not only yours, but his weight too as he rested his stomach on your back. Hands working on your jeans than his, a belt falling to the ground. 

You felt him on your flesh, in your flesh as he just thrusted into you without any warning. You moaned. 

He grunted. 

The desk shook, your breasts wobbled even through the shirt, your hands gave out, your chest atop of the wood and Jacobs palms pushing into the table on either side of your head. 

He kept thrusting, in and out, in and out, his hips colliding into your backside again and again. 

Soon his hands were grasping onto your waist, and you for some reason challenged yourself to stay quiet, silent as he moaned and grunted, flesh slapping into yours, you were just there… Existing as he pounded in you. 

You weren’t as strong as you wished, you were even weak at times, but even the weak had their purpose. 

And you weren’t too bothered if this was to be yours.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!  
> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this Jacob Seed oneshot!
> 
> The main reason I really wanted to write something like this was a bit of a weird one, Jacob is literally so damn calming to me haha When I played the game and got to his region, you know you get marked and kidnapped ... and stuff ... His voice is really soothing, the voice actor did a wonderful job, also the body language of Jacob in the game just gave me this feeling that he was a patient guy, rarely gets angry. People like that help me a lot in social situations, he seems really calm and laidback, besides all the "Sacrifice the weak" and "Cull the herd stuff" XD 
> 
> I don't know if it's just me, seriously if you feel the same way, tell me! I need to know haha 
> 
> So yeah, I think I might have gone a bit off track with this fanfic, but I didn't have a plan and just started writing haha
> 
> Also, I'd like to say that I take depression and mental illness, any illness, physical or mind, very seriously, I struggle with depression and anxiety myself, and know that many people do. Just know that in reality, we are all strong, (Not that anyone needs me to say that to know) but everyone is strong, and we all fight battles in our mind. It can take alot of strength to do casual, daily tasks for many people, whether it be for physical or mental reasons.


End file.
